


Pinks

by No_Yes_Always



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: BailBuddies, Canon Compliant, F/M, Lenny-Centric, Post Season/Series 03, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_Yes_Always/pseuds/No_Yes_Always
Summary: It rains the day he arrives back. Why wouldn't it?(Lenny decides to send flowers again.)
Relationships: Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)/Miriam "Midge" Maisel
Comments: 15
Kudos: 205





	Pinks

It rained the day he arrived back. Why wouldn’t it? 

Not that that’s so bad, or even unwelcome after the Florida heat. And appropriate; there would be something wrong with the sun smiling down over him, letting him stand in the glow like some fucking angel. 

That’s what the spotlight is for. 

He used to look at it that way, back when he was starting out. Back when he looked at the stage as his mother’s place. She might as well have been an apparition anyway, for how much he saw her. 

It _became_ his place. (He became the devil, if you read the paper.) 

Midge is the angel. 

Not his angel, she’s too much of a force of nature; he’d be as afraid to try to own her as he would be to follow her ー much more than he admitted before. Midge belongs to no one, no matter what Susie seems to think. She protects her like it, like she’s investor and friend and momma bear all in one. 

Which is why Lenny’s not sure how Midge can still be in New York. 

She’s meant to be in Europe for another three months, not some club midtown clouded with so much smoke that he can barely see her, tucked as he is all the way in the back. No wonder she hasn’t spotted him. 

She’s funny. As always. But there’s a little melancholy to Midge tonight too, and he can read it straight off her perfectly white-powdered face. She’s back to the full-black look, and he’d call it more of the same except that this is a more conservative look than he’s come to expect. It’s a lot of sleeve for June, swishing around her elbows as she gestures. 

She’s fucking radiant with that light on her. 

It’s been two months since he last saw her, walking away bathed in neon lights, leaving him to his little hotel room. She was in Miami for another week after that, before Shy Baldwin had some kind of breakdown and pulled the tour for two months. He didn’t see her again, didn’t come and say hello, and didn’t expect her to either. Not that it would be out of character. 

They both knew after that they wouldn’t see each other for awhile, he thinks. And now that they’re both back in the same place again, he almost doesn’t want to approach her. Before he looked her up in Florida, all their meetings had been contrived seemingly by the will of God. _There’s a comforting thought._

Sure, it went well enough for him then, if you ignore that last minute or two. _Maybe someday?_ It sounded desperate. He _was_ desperate. 

Who could blame him? After she left that night, he stood out there until he was completely out of cigarettes, and then went slumping into his room to shove his entire face into his pillow. The point being, of course, that now he’s not sure what kind of reception to expect. Sure, Midge’s natural warmth would still be there, like always, butー 

He doesn’t want to come back into her life like nothing’s different. Because it is.

* * *

Even if he doesn’t want to just approach her, like he’s demanding something, he _does_ want her to know he’s back in the city, just as he wants to know what force could possibly have kept _Midge Maisel_ on this side of the globe. 

Flowers, he decides. Again. Classy. 

_Save the date_. 

He’d like to; remind her of their last. _He_ certainly would have called it that; going to a club, dancing, strolling along by the water with her wearing his jacket. 

It’s a recurring bit of theirs, it seems. It isn’t exactly funny, but it does help him keep a smile plastered on his face when he really needs it. They suit her, even if they aren’t made to (Tailored specifically to the opposite, actually. Also familiar.) They should dwarf her, like he should dwarf her, being almost a foot taller, but they still fit. 

_Well_. 

_On_ that note, he’d like to bring her back to that, for a minute, instead of having her wonder why he hasn’t just dropped into the Gaslight. It was a good outfit; floral, perfect for Miami. As though he would have dared expect otherwise. 

Pink flowers. He’s _already_ sent her pink flowers, it’s her favorite fucking color. How is it supposed to mean anything, when anything otherwise more or less suggests that he hasn’t been paying any attention since the day he met her? It’s not unexpected. 

It’s not remarkable. 

It’s not shocking. Lenny Bruce must be shocking. 

He doesn’t even remember Honey’s favorite color. Oh, he _knows_ he knew it, but he doesn’t anymore. It’s like things like that ー like her favorite restaurants, her favorite jokes of his ー left with the ring. Kitty’s favorite color, for the moment, is yellow, and he’s amazingly glad he at least remembers that much. 

Does he _have_ a favorite color? 

If he did, he supposes he’d want Midge to know it. There’s a lot he’d want Midge to know. The kinds of things he could never make a joke out of, it’s a bit raw for that yet. It’s nice having some things between the two of them, but are they really between the two of them if he doesn’t actually tell her? 

She seems like the kind of person who would already know. Can sense things like that. It’s a very Upper West Side idea. 

Maybe she knows like he likes to think he might know, like he thought he knew with her pressed against his chest, her fingers softly brushing the back of his neck. Another arrangement of pink flowers won’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know.

* * *

He orders a single pink rose, without a note. 

Maybe it’ll remind her of the one in her hair. He thinks, at least, that she’ll know who it came from. 

And then he goes to the Gaslight, and he waits.

**Author's Note:**

> All I do since finishing Season Three is read through this tag. Again. And again. And again. I seem to find something new to love, in one fic or another, every single time. 
> 
> Maybe I'll add to it more, if this goes over well.  
> How'd I do?


End file.
